stormheart
by pyr0technic
Summary: Four times Miles catches Phoenix in the rain, and the fifth time he realizes that maybe the heavens are trying to tell him something.


Miles held the black umbrella his father had given him over his head as he walked along the roadside to school. There was a steady drizzle that apparently many were not prepared for. Miles watched as several kids, laughing and screaming, ran their way past him. They splashed muddy water on his shoes, automatically instigating a frown.

Mood now spoiled – his father had just bought him those shoes, he really hoped they wouldn't stain – Miles hastened the pace, eyebrows furrowed as he looked straight ahead. He continued like this for a few minutes, only to have someone bustle by him, barely mumbling a frantic apology before bumbling on ahead.

How foolish. Yet another student without an umbrella. Did these children not have the common sense to read the forecast? This one had incredibly black spiky hair – surely that couldn't be natural – and a backpack that was carelessly slung on one shoulder. His posture was terrible, and his slippers were coated in a mixture of rainwater and mud.

Miles clicked his tongue, shaking his head. He did pity the boy, but he did not feel any compelling need to share with this stranger he did not know.

 _Miles. Always show kindness to those who need it._

Though his father's stern and soft voice rang through his head, he frowned. It was that own boy's fault he didn't bring an umbrella. They were not terribly expensive, and the weather forecast was public information, was it not? If anything, he had to learn to be more responsible. Miles was doing him a favor by letting him learn a lesson.

Yes.

Miles continued at his pace, though his eyes kept flickering back to that boy in front of him. He had been joined by another (unfortunately umbrella-less) companion, this one with brunette spikes that pointed upwards instead of sideways. What was with kids and spikes, Miles thought as he subconsciously brushed his bangs aside.

Though their shoulders and hair were wet at this point, they didn't really seem to mind. They laughed and joked around with each other, starting a pushing contest that ended up with Phoenix in a puddle and Larry running.

When they reached the school, Miles retracted his umbrella, stowed it away and watched the boys walk inside the classroom, wondering why it didn't feel satisfying to be completely dry.

* * *

There he was, again.

Miles was about to depart from the gates outside – the afternoon sun was quickly becoming obscured by heavy, grey rainclouds and he wanted to get home as soon as possible – but was thwarted by a voice.

"Miles! Miles – wait!"

He turned to see the boy he had defended earlier today, both hands planted on his knees as he panted from the exhaustion of running. At this, Miles hid a smug smile – it was only a short distance from the school to the gates, after all.

"Yes?" he asked politely.

Phoenix stood up straight, face appearing like he was experiencing a blank. He shook his head, seemingly trying to regain his thoughts. "Um, I... I wanted to tell you thank you. You rescued me!"

Miles raised his eyebrows. "I did what any decent person should have done. No need to thank me."

Phoenix shook his head. "I mean, it's... it's not like that. I'm thanking you because I want to. It felt nice knowing that I had someone else who had my back other than, like, Larry, you know?"

At this, Miles's eyes widened a fraction. Larry was the boy he hung out with so often, the ridiculously loud one with the brown hair. And then, for some strange reason, he felt a smile bloom upon his face.

"Glad you think so."

It started raining.

"Not again," Phoenix groaned, stomping a foot in frustration. He took his backpack off and placed it above his head to shield himself on the run he was about to take.

"Phoenix," Miles called out, after Phoenix had left.

Phoenix turned around, bright brown eyes questioningly looking back at him. "Hmm?"

The words he wanted to say died in his throat. "Noth _ing_ ," he said, voice breaking halfway through. He cleared his throat, wondering if he had caught a cold. No, that didn't make sense – he wasn't even wet.

Miles opened his black umbrella and started walking.

* * *

The commute from work to home was rather irritating, Miles thought.

He had only recently returned to America to make his debut as a prosecutor, so the apartment he had booked wasn't anywhere near the vicinity. He was supposed to move out, but work had a way of swallowing up most of his work and private life.

So Miles stood outside, umbrella over his head as he waited for the bus. He wasn't particularly enthralled with the prospect of public transport, but he had no other choice until he got around to purchasing a decent car. He glanced at his watch periodically, wishing time would go by faster.

Out of the corner if his eye he spotted a familiar face – Armando, was it? He had made quite the name for himself under Grossberg. The man walked straight past him, heading for the parking lot. Miles watched as he pulled out in a bright red thing (he wasn't the most knowledgable in car names) out of the vicinity, trying not to feel envious.

People continued to file out of the courthouse, though Miles remained rooted in his spot. A few took refuge beside him. Then, he spotted a fair, dark-haired woman stand next to him. The area under the roof was already overcrowded, so the rain began dotting her overcoat with wet spots.

She cursed under her breath, checking her phone. Miles almost felt pity, but then remembered the way von Karma saw people like her. He did not feel pity. He stood silently and stared straight ahead, gaze unwavering.

This continued for a short amount of time until the sound of a car engine came roaring into the vicinity. Up ahead, a familiar red car pulled up, closer and closer until Miles almost wondered if he was about to get jumped – no, it wasn't for him.

It was for the lady next to him.

Miles watched as Armando got out, umbrella in hand as he enveloped Mia Fey inside.

"Caught in the rain, Kitten?"

"I didn't... I didn't know you'd actually come! I was kind of kidding." Her eyes were wide, jaw outstretched.

Diego frowned and glanced aside. "You coming or not?"

"Yeah, I'll... I'll come."

The two disappeared inside, and as the car drove away, there was a small buzz of gossip amidst the "waiting for the bus" crowd that had formed under the small roof outside the courthouse. Miles didn't blame them, though he did find it pointless to gossip about something so dreadfully obvious.

He pictured a grand romantic gesture from Armando and a gape-jawed, flushed Fey before he rolled his eyes and realized how frivolous workplace romance was, let alone romance in general. He checked his watch again, and looked up. There was Phoenix.

 _Wait, what!?  
_

Amidst the drizzling rain stood Phoenix Wright and... someone else. A girl with bright red hair held up a nauseatingly pink little parasol that shielded them both from the incoming rain. She was giggling sweetly, biting her index finger's knuckle, while Phoenix blushed and rubbed his neck. They walked by in a matter of seconds, and once they were gone, Miles found himself forgetting to breathe.

A thousand thoughts he had forced himself to lock away and forget came rushing forwards, and he staggered a bit as a result. His grip on the umbrella handle loosened, and he felt himself being pelted with stray raindrops. He wondered why the sight of him had shook him so much. It was a crack in his otherwise perfect "new" reality. He had meant to forget Phoenix Wright.

He had meant to forget the boys of his childhood, because there was no room for them anymore. This wasn't... Phoenix hadn't even noticed him, why was he still so shaken... And why did the rain feel so icy on his face?

The bus came, and Miles barely remembered to shut his pitch black umbrella before boarding.

* * *

"Well? Come in, then."

Phoenix Wright stared unblinkingly at Miles Edgeworth, who had a pink glow cast upon his face from his bright red umbrella. They stood in silence, warm brown against steely grey until Phoenix actually processed the statement.

"Wait, you're serious?"

"Yes," Miles said dryly, clearly annoyed at the question.

"Alright, then..." Phoenix stepped inside the small rainless space, his warm shoulder touching the other's as they began walking. Miles become strangely silent, focusing a little too hard on the ground, while Phoenix's eyes still remained widened from the initial surprise.

"So you're not even going to tell me off for not bringing an umbrella?" Phoenix quipped, turning his face to smirk at Miles.

Miles couldn't hide the smug grin that rose at the comment, and he seemed to be snapped out of his previous reverie. "You never bring an umbrella."

"How do you know that?"

"...I just do."

Phoenix seemed to want to question it, but shook his head at the last moment and grinned instead. "Hey, so you actually care, Demon Prosecutor."

"I _was_ going to offer you a ride."

Phoenix shook his head. "Oh, it's fine. I mean... You already had to drive Larry and I home after that one night, I think I've used up my Edgeworth passes for the month. I have a conscience, you know?"

"Right." Miles suddenly felt foolish for asking.

"That is my name, yes?"

Miles had to refrain from rolling his eyes, lest he provide the attorney with the satisfaction that that decade-old pun actually merited a _reaction_. Heaven forbid. Luckily, it did make him feel better. No man could ever be more foolish than Phoenix Wright (though Larry Butz would certainly be an exception).

"Well, I'm gonna run to the bus stop now. See you later?" Phoenix had already ducked out of the umbrella, and Miles suddenly felt that same strange twinge in his chest, except this time it was much stronger. It felt like a tsunami compared to a wave.

Miles remembered the rain, and he remembered the past fifteen years, trying to understand something.

"Wait," Miles called. When Phoenix turned back around to look at him, he felt his heart beat faster. Clenching his free hand into a tight fist, Miles held out the umbrella. "Take it."

"Are you sure—?"

Miles deadpan gaze was enough for Phoenix, and so he gave in and wrapped his fingers around first, Miles' fingers, then belatedly the handle. He shrugged it off with a sheepish laugh. Miles stared at his fingers, (he had barely remembered not to flinch, though he wanted to so badly) cursing Phoenix's shit hand-eye coordination. Then he wondered why it bothered him so much.

"Bye. Thank you!"

As Phoenix ran off in the opposite direction, Miles stepped into his car, feeling the slightest bit relieved. He had finally done something thoughtful for him, so maybe he could finally stop feeling guilty for no reason.

He started the car and sat there for a moment, watching the windshield wipers wipe away the constant barrage of raindrops. Then, he stared at his fingers, which still tingled in the oddest of ways.

He felt like he was missing something.

* * *

Maybe he had known it all along, but it only really sunk into his conscious when thunder struck at seven o'clock, – signaling the oncoming of pouring rain – while he was still at work.

That was it, that was the problem, it was the reason Miles could never really quite _really focus_ these days, and even when he could, the sight of bright brown eyes or "right" or coffee was enough to send him spiraling back into thoughts of _him_ , rinse and repeat. It was the reason for, yes, the _fluttering_ , and the heat that creeped up his cheeks and trickled through his veins, it was just _everything._

He rose from his seat, eyes first searching for his umbrella, only to realise he had given it to _Wright, forgotten to take it back, or maybe he wanted him to keep it, whatever,_ and exhaled deeply, trying to calm himself.

What was he even doing? Was he going to just walk up to Wright and tell him everything? And more importantly, tell him what? He wasn't even sure if he possessed the courage to reveal everything. He just knew that he really, seriously _loved_ him and it wasn't something he could keep bottled up forever, no, he had learned that bottling up one's feelings never amounted to anything good.

With this in mind, he decided to screw it, rushing down thirteen flights of stairs and exiting the prosecutor's office with nothing but his jacket held above him to help protect him from the rain. It didn't work, because it was pouring. Harder than Miles had ever seen before, this kind of rain was so thick it almost felt smooth, like he was an ant under a steady, full stream of water from a faucet and he was drowning, but it felt good.

And in the next second, he didn't know whether to be thankful to or curse his strange luck, because the exact person he was looking for was currently running towards him, bright red umbrella open but barely helping since the wind was blowing all the rain in their direction. Barely able to see through the downpour, Miles convinced himself that he was brave and grabbed Phoenix's wrist and pulled him towards himself.

What followed was a barrage of questions, "Wait, who are – oh my god, Edgeworth, I'm so sorry it took me so long it just kinda slipped my mind, here get under, or I mean, you can have it back I'll just—"

"Wright!"

Phoenix silenced.

"Let me speak for a moment. Please."

Thankfully, he nodded, acknowledging him to continue. "Okay."

"I know I've said it before, but I will say it again. I'm sorry for everything's that happened these past years,"—Phoenix's eyes widened, not expecting this direction of topic—"I've been in the wrong more than once. I shouldn't have acted the way I did, when you came back for me or when I left afterwards. You're an important person to me, and I fear that I may have led you to believe otherwise."

Phoenix's breath hitched, disbelievingly. "Well... I should've understood that you prioritize work over friendships – er, wait–"

Miles' look soured, and Phoenix cursed under his breath. Miles was finally speaking to him honestly and he had fucked up the moment he had opened his mouth. Fantastic.

"And I'm here to tell you that's not the case," Miles began crossly, barely understanding why he suddenly felt irrationally angry. "I do work more than most do, but I do have time for you–I have time for my friends. I just..."

As Phoenix waited for the words, Miles suddenly became aware of the rain again. The pelting rain hurt but the cold felt good. With his eyes the same flashing color of the swirling clouds above their heads, he wondered if he would be able to tell Phoenix of his feelings properly this time.

Phoenix's hand was resting on his shoulder, now, as if trying to reassure him that everything would be okay.

He took a breath.

"You're my best friend, and you deserve a lot more for what you have put up with. Even if you do always saddle me with unnecessary feelings." Miles' eyes widened a fraction after the last sentence, because he hadn't really meant to say that, but he actually had, hadn't he? He didn't want to be outright, because he was pretty sure Phoenix was straight and this would be nothing but awkward, but he said it.

"I'm okay with this," Phoenix finally said with a grin, and Miles was still wondering if that dense man had missed the message again. At Miles' hesitant face, he couldn't help but smile harder.

He inclined his face towards Miles, whispering once again, "I'm okay with this."

* * *

He didn't even notice that the rain had stopped, too busy immersing himself in the climactic sensation of his heart. It felt like liquidized sugar flowing through his veins to his fingertips and toes, and someone's hair just barely brushing forehead.

He had never known he had been wanting this for so long.


End file.
